


Choice(s)

by bluphacelia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Developing Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Keith (Voltron) Angst, M/M, Partners to Lovers, season 4 compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 00:11:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12469108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluphacelia/pseuds/bluphacelia
Summary: Keith looks back at the few weeks that led him up to leaving Team Voltron (for now). -- Of new friendships and hardships in the face of war.





	Choice(s)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday Keith! I'm sorry I make you suffer. 
> 
> Thank you [Alex](https://in-a-garden-astonished.tumblr.com/) and [Sleapy](https://sir-klancelot.tumblr.com/) for the beta read!

0.

There is an odd sense of relief as he pulls off his Red Paladin armor and places it back into the holding compartment. He isn't Red's pilot anymore and every time he'd donned it; it had started to feel wrong, off, like he was wearing someone else's clothes. He feels a strange twist of longing for what had been; of belonging, but he pushes it away. He turns as the compartment hisses and fades into the wall. Out of sight.

"Ready?" Kolivan calls out and he nods. He doesn't look back.

1.

He'd gone through training before—from the mind numbing routine of the Garrison to the ever changing training deck of the Castle Ship, but he'd never been pushed as far as he had in the last few weeks. 

"Again!" came that hateful voice through the speakers. He ached from head to toe.

A flash of light was his only warning as the new volley of blaster fire battered him from all sides. He ducked, slammed into the floor. Bruised ribs made him hiss as he rolled away. He was back on his feet. Running. 

There was no cover in this room, not for these exercises. 

A dash of movement caught his eye—to the left. A door in the ground, opened. That usually meant troops—an army to pummel him to the ground. He slid across the floor, knife clutched in his hand. The lift came up empty. 

Well that was new. He darted around, back to the wall, suspicious.

"Looking for something?" A voice called out. It made him twist, startled. Someone he didn't recognize. The new comer was dressed in a full Marmora suit, face hidden by that emotionless mask, as they crouched behind him, hands tugging at a panel on the side of the training arena. It slid open easily under their—his?—touch.

"And that's how you do it." The voice was smug. A man, probably. It was hard to tell sometimes.

There was a telltale crackle of energy being gathered. "Ready to ditch this room?"

He followed.

2.

"Good, you've met," Kolivan said, back to the two of them, hands flying across the control panel. The strange symbols and signs flashed by faster than he could decipher, so he just stood still, eyes half focused on the large Galra's left shoulder.

"Regris is one of our finest." Kolivan, finally satisfied, turned around. His eyes were intent on the two of them, arms crossed across his chest as he stood, rigid and hard, face unreadable.

"He'll teach you the art of stealth. Deception. Infiltration," the galra paused, yellow eyes watchful. It was always hard not to squirm under that look, but he did his best—ground his teeth, let his arms hang loose, unimposing. He needed this more than air.

"Forget everything you think you know. Follow his lead. To be seen is to fail. And in failure lies death." The words fell on him like droplets of rain after a long draught. "Do not make me regret my decision."

"No, sir," the words came easy, even though the humility did not.

"Good. You're dismissed."

They left. Together.

3.

"I'll take the second deck," came the now familiar voice in his ear.

"Five minutes," he said, eyes focused on his task. Third wire, clip—homing beacon set. Data extraction started.

"You're flagging," came the voice again and he started. The system blared red under his hands, locking him out. A curse, unbidden, came from his lips.

"Extraction point. Now!" It was a command, the irate voice pulling him from the failure. He tugged the extraction unit off, storing it into the small pouch on his belt and he ran.

He heard a shot. Somewhere in the distance, there was a clatter of metal against metal. A pained sound in his ear.

"Regris?" he called out, voice hushed as he slowed down to a light jog. He was one with the shadows—nothing but a minute shift in the darkness. 

And just as suddenly, it all fell out of his mind. A sudden spike of adrenaline pushed everything away, tunneling his vision to the sound of increased blaster fire in the distance. He ran. All his previous attempts at quiet forgotten. He sprinted forward, knife suddenly in his hand as though he had his bayard back—there was a twitch of regret and pain, but he pushed it away. There was no time for that.

He spotted them a good moment before they saw him. It was over in a flash, two well placed hits and the bodies crumpled onto the ground. And there was Regris, sword a good few paces away.

"You okay?" he asked as he reached down, clasped Regris' hand to pull him up.

"All good," came the reply and he liked to imagine that there was a smile under that mask.

"Extraction point. NOW!" the voice boomed through the headpiece.

4.

"What you did was unacceptable. Inexcusable," Kolivan's voice was tight with barely controlled rage. "This isn't a charity. We cannot afford to waste a chance to gather intel. If that had been a true mission you would have caused—"

The words flowed and surrounded him. He could feel Regris stiffen next to him—his tail turned rigid, a clear sign he was agitated.

"—Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," they echoed together.

5.

The ship was quiet around them as they ran. The low red lights guiding the way as they came to a fork in the corridor and split. He felt alive, a joy bubbling through him as he fell into step with his training, running toward the core. There was movement, but it was just a droid. It didn't even slow him down, crashing to the ground a good twenty seconds after he'd passed.

He pulled out his tools, second nature now, and locked them into place. His job was the easiest. Distract, detect, destroy. His eyes fell to the Galran text, scanning for the information he needed.

"Three minutes," came the warning.

He made the call. Yanked the wires before pulling out.

"I'm clear," he said. He turned, and found a blaster square on his forehead.

It was an actual soldier this time. Galran, a good two feet taller than him, twice if not three times his width.

"What do we have here," the Galra growled. "A tiny Marmora whelp. Lost? Where are your friends?"

He took a breath and felt himself dissociate from the situation. His body moved, catching the Galra off guard. His knife made quick work and blood oozed onto the ground.

"I got caught," he said and continued to run. "We have to leave now!"

"Roger," came Regris' reply and then a terse "Copy" from Kolivan.

He turned a corner and barreled straight into a squadron of robot soldiers. Knife flashing into a sword, he jumped and they aimed. There was a burst of hot against his thigh, but it was over quick.

"I got hit," he informed, grit his teeth, and ran.

6.

The Marmora had healing pods. Of course they did as he stumbled out dressed in a black skin tight bodysuit, not unlike the Paladin—he cut himself off. That life was behind him now.

"You alright there?" A warm hand against his shoulder. He looked up and couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips.

"First mission success," he said and the warmth of the smile coupled with the bubbling excitement that truth brought him made him feel giddy all over again.

"First mission success and you losing nearly two pints of blood," Regris muttered, hand slung across his shoulders, the easy camaraderie so different and so similar it made his heart ache.

"It was fine!" he laughed and tried to shrug off the arm only to be pulled in closer.

"Next time. You'll be a ghost. No one will even know you were there," the words were whispered into his ear, the warm breath making him shiver.

7.

The days went by easy. There were almost daily missions, daily brushes with death, and he embraced it all with gusto, with a reverence to the cause that made Kolivan cross his arms and nod with approval.

The nights, however, lingered.

"Can't sleep?" Regris moved to stand by his side. They were on Olkarion this time, a break between missions, and it felt odd to feel real gravity under his feet after weeks in space. 

"Something like that," he evaded and walked away from the window looking down into the small compound. If they continued at this rate it would be the size of a small town soon.

"I hear the Paladins will be back tomorrow," Regris pushed again.

"I know," he snapped, the words falling sharp and bitter, even to his own ears. Regris just watched him, eyes intent, head tilted to the side.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you didn't want to see your old comrades," the words were soothing and Regris moved closer, hands splayed out like he was trying to calm a wild animal.

He let it happen. Strong arms circled around his shoulders, tugging him close. A moment passed and Regris pulled away, just enough to look down at him, eyes watchful. 

He smiled back at the worried look on the Galra's face and let his hands wander up, around the other man's neck, tugging him down. 

It started off soft, just a feeling of comfort, partnership. He took the lead, like he often did, licking across Regris' lips, pushing closer, as close as he could to the comfort the other man unknowingly brought him. He groaned as he finally got what he wanted, kiss deepening, teeth clashing, a sharp tug at his lower lip making him gasp. The world fell away.

The minute stretched as he tried to calm down, arms still clasped at the shaggy mane of hair. Breath hoarse, even in his own ears.

"We could be gone on a mission," the other's words slipped through his muddled thoughts. "We could just miss them by a tick or two."

"No," he managed after a shuddering breath. "It's time I face them."

8.

The mission was just like any other. He'd been on dozens now. Dozens and none of them had been so obviously a trap. The certainty curled dark and deep inside him as he watched Regris stand at the console, tell them to leave. Telling him to leave. Then, Kolivan pulling him away from the ship's core just in the nick of time.

The explosion deafened him for a long moment. 

His ears rang as he tried to catch his bearings in the rubble. A burning cold seeped through him and he glanced down. Torn suit. The rest was a blur of instinct, of survival and training. Minutes passed and he found himself back on the Marmora ship. Kolivan and him. Alone.

He took a deep breath. There was a hum in his ears, piercing, too loud. A cold sweat clung to his skin that had nothing to do with the near escape from death. Death. He squeezed his eyes shut. He walked that line every day.

The ringing didn't abate, a single sharp note piercing through his drifting thoughts. He dug the heel of his palm into his eyes. He couldn't breathe. 

Muffled words broke through. Kolivan was speaking to someone over the coms.

"—It seems to have been a trap after all. Just a few robot soldiers inside and the core was infused as a bomb, but Regris managed to capture the data—"

He swallowed, fighting back the headache, the muted feelings trying to burst from his chest. The pain.

"—sacrificed himself for the cause—"

He felt his head bang against the back wall. The world felt far away. Impossibly distant. The ringing in his ears intensified. This was war. Nothing would stop the casualties from piling up. He'd seen people die. He'd killed people himself. But not like this. Not after everything—

9.

His mask dropped onto the ground and he barely registered the dull thud of metal against metal. His gloves were next, his belt. He shrugged off the suit, but abandoned the endeavor half way. Everything pulsed around him. The cabin felt too big and too small simultaneously, restricting as though all the air had been pumped out of the room. He fell onto the ground by his bunk, his mind half registering the dull pain to his knees.

It was his fault. 

He knew he wasn't good enough and he still selfishly wanted more. He should have grabbed Regris. Somehow. Why hadn't he been faster. Two seconds had been the difference. Two seconds and they would have all come home together.

Home. He curled up into himself, knees to chest, back digging into the sharp corner of his bunk. 

He could still feel that warm hand on his shoulder, on his waist, like a phantom limb, throbbing. Hot tears dripped onto his cheeks. A burning anger filled his chest as he brushed them away with the back of his hand. An open pit of fury swallowing up the remnants of pain. 

He'd kill them all. He'd destroy them before they ever touched another person he cared about.

No one else would die because of him.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at [tumblr](http://bluphacelia.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/blu_tweets). 
> 
> I'd also love prompts if anyone wants to throw me one, my inbox is always open!


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